Pages

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

The Great Leader was beautifully
dressed in his shiny yellow silk Chinese suit as he sat behind his huge
rosewood desk, scowling dreadfully. He was scowling and growling at the latest
story about himself on Yapdog, under the headline ‘The Great Leader Barks But Can’t
Bite’. Then, above the gnashing of his ancient teeth he heard the sound of a
polite knock upon the heavy mukwa door at the other end of his office. ‘Come
in!’ he barked angrily, without looking up.

Into the room came a little fat
Chinaman dressed in a quiet grey English suit. The Chinaman then groveled all
the way to the vast desk and stood there transfixed in a permanent half-bow. The
Great Leader continued scowling at the laptop and barked ‘Don’t just stand
there! Don’t you know who I am! Get down on your knees!’

Finally the Great Leader deigned to
look up, and saw nobody. So he stood up and peered over the edge of his desk,
only to find the Chinaman groveling horizontally on the floor, and fast disappearing
into the thick pile of the rich red carpet. He immediately ran all the way
round the perimeter of the mighty desk to rescue the poor fellow.

‘A thousand apologies my dear
brother,’ he said as he helped the Chinaman to his feet and dusted him down. ‘I
quite thought it was one of my idiot ministers. Do forgive me. Come and sit
with me over here,’ he said, pointing to an array of black suede armchairs over
by the French windows.

‘How can I assist you?’ asked the
Great Leader graciously, as they both sank into the soft voluminous chairs. ‘Or
better still, how can you assist me?’

‘I am U See Me,’ explained U See Me,
‘and I have been sent by His Excellencee the Mighty Chinese Emperor, otherwise
known as the Humble Servant of the Peepullee. He send me here to give you See-See
TV.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said the Great
Leader politely. ‘But we already have TV which we See-See every day. No need
for more See-See.’

‘This TV velly differentee,’ explained
U See Me. ‘With See-See TV you see if all the peepull are glateful to their
Glate Leader. You can See-See what they are doing all the time. Velly See-See.’

‘Ah ha!’ exclaimed the Great Leader,
‘you mean CCTV!’

‘Ho ho no no,’ said U See Me, ‘CCTV is
Chinese Central Television!’

‘No no,’ said the Great Leader in
desperation,’ we already have Chinese Central TV. But we use Closed Circuit TV,
which we call CCTV, to spy on poor people in Shoprite, to make sure that the
starving don’t s steal a slice of bread.’

‘Oh no no,’ laughed U See Me, ‘this is
not Closed Circuit TV or Chinese Central TV, this is the marvellee See-See TV.
Not just to spy on the starving, but to spy on everybody!’

‘That’s not the way we do it here,’ explained
the Great Leader. ‘I just spy on my enemies, not on everybody.’

‘But what about your friends?’ said U
See Me, ‘Can you See-See them all the time? They might be your enemies!’

‘Hmm,’ said the Great Leader
thoughtfully. ‘How much does this thing cost?’

‘Only $200million for one set of
equipment to do Lusaka.’

‘I don’t know,’ said the Great Leader
doubtfully. ‘My predecessor bought mobile hospitals to reach people where there
were no clinics. But later he discovered that the places which had no clinics
also had no roads. He made such an ass of himself that people are still
laughing!’

‘Look,’ said U See Me. ‘See-See TV is
not silly. It is your existing system which is silly. Your system works the
wong way wound. All the people are watching the government on TV to see what you
are doing wong. But the government is not using the TV to watch the peepullee to
see what they are doing wong. See-See TV can install a devicee to look at them
while they are looking at you. Any disloyalty will be seen immediately, and you
can lock up the culprit. You can even search a dissident’s housee the very same
nightee. Look for stolen library bookee and all such seditious attacks upon the
state.’

‘I don’t know,’ sighed The Great
Leader. ‘I’m already getting too many irritating phone calls from the American
Ambassador.’

‘Such as no development unless you
vote for me. You just puttee See-See TV in every polling stationee, and you’ll see-see
who doesn’t votee for you.’

‘Poof,’ scoffed The Great Leader, ‘I
already know all that! And anyway I can never keep that promise because I always
have to give more development to the ones who voted against, so that I can win
next time!’

‘Ah ha!’ said U See Me, clapping his
hands with glee. ‘See-See TV can make very sure you win next time!’

‘Really?’ said The Great Leader, now
sitting up straight. ‘How does it do that?’

‘Now that’s more like it! Why didn’t
you say so before!’ laughed The Great Leader, as he now stood up and shook the
Chinaman by the hand. ‘Then I’ll take four of them! On condition that this is a
deal just between you and me!’

U See Me looked nervously round the
ceiling as he shook the Great Leader’s hand. ‘Let’s hope nobody can See-See!’

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

‘What
on Earth’s going on in Lusaka?’ I asked Kupela. ‘Last week on Monday there were
reports that the army had State House surrounded! Was it an attempted coup d’etat
or what!’

‘Most
people believe that Cycle Mata collapsed, and the army was ready to protect the
nation from any one of his self-appointed successors grabbing the reins of
power.’

‘But
did he really collapse?’

‘Of
course not,’ she laughed.

‘So
why do people believe it?’

‘Because
the story appeared on Yapdog,’ laughed Sara. ‘Everybody used to think their
stories were all lies, just cooked up to embarrass the government. But then a
month ago the government closed it down. So now they think that all the Yapdog
stories must be true, and it’s the Lapdog press that’s always telling lies.
Since Yapdog was officially closed down it has trebled its readership.’

‘Half
a minute,’ I said. ‘If the government closed it down, then how does Yapdog publish
its stories?’

‘This
is the Third World,’ laughed Kupela. ‘Governments are too inefficient to
achieve their totalitarian ambitions, and their spooks start to blab after a
couple of beers.’

‘So
what’s the true story?’ I said. ‘Did the army really surround State House?’

‘Oh
yes,’ she laughed.

‘Why?’

‘State
House was being invaded.’

‘What!’
I exclaimed. ‘By the army?’

‘No,
of course not. By the DEC, the Dumping Ecstasy Commission!’

‘So
what was the army doing?’

‘It
was preventing any ecstasy dealers escaping over the wall, which at State House
makes a very large and potentially porous perimeter.’

‘How
do you know all this?’ I asked in exasperation.

‘My
boyfriend’s sister has a friend whose niece has three boyfriends in the
Shushushu, so all her stories are seriously cross-referenced.’

‘Good
gracious,’ I said. ‘So what is the real story? Why did the DEC invade State
House?’

‘Because
of this dude Brave Kangalala, who had been accusing the government of
persecuting its political opponents and critics with bogus charges. Anybody
they wanted to fix, claimed Kangalala, they would just invade their house and
search it for 24 hours until they find some incriminating evidence.’

‘But
that wouldn’t work if they don’t find anything.’

‘If
they don’t find it then they just plant it,’ laughed Kupela. ‘That’s why they’re
called the Dumping Ecstasy Commission.’

‘Now
one day,’ explained Kupela, ‘this same Kangalala accused the government of
corruptly winning the election by making fake promises. Furthermore, he suggested
that their failure to implement their election promises strongly suggested that
they were high on something, because they all seemed to be wandering around in
a daze, appointing ministers one week and firing them the next.’

‘So
they arrested Kangalala?’

‘No,
they’re not quite as stupid as that. They invaded State House and conducted a
search. They saw a good chance to make a nice show that they could also
investigate government, and of course to show that the government is not
corrupt.’

‘And
what did they find?’

‘Of
course they found from all the computer records that the accusation of election
fraud was not correct. Kangalala had claimed that the government had promised more money in your pocket, but it was
found that they had promised more money
in our pocket. Similarly the promise to reform
the judiciary turned out to be deform
the judiciary. They had never promised to finalize the constitution, only to digitalize the constitution. They never said they would reduce the price of fuel, only reduce the subsidy on fuel. Rather than reducing the number of ministers they
had promised to redouble the number of
ministers. There was no evidence of fraud or false pretences.’

‘What
about restoring the Barotseland
Agreement?’

‘That
turned out to be deploring the
Barotseland Agreement.’

‘What
about doing everything in 90 days?’

‘That
turned out to be doing everything in 90
decades.’

‘What
about repealing the Public Order Act?’

‘That
turned out to be retaining the Public
Order Act.’

‘What
about bringing the Freedom of Information
Bill?’

‘That
turned out to be burying the Freedom of
Information Bill.’

‘Huh!’
But there still remains the little matter of creating five million jobs!’

‘They
certainly promised that. But the DEC investigators found detailed plans to
create 5,000 new civil service jobs in each of 1,000 new districts.’

‘And
did they find any incriminating drugs?’

‘They
did find a suitcase of suspicious looking pills under the bed of the medical
doctor who was a relative of Cycle Mata. But according to the DEC report, these
turned out to be Vermox de-worming tablets. The doctor had noticed that some horrible
monstrous worms had wormed themselves into government, and she was planning a
massive de-worming operation, beginning with the Cabinet.’

‘So
they couldn’t arrest anybody?’

‘There
was absolutely no evidence of fraud or corruption. According to the DEC report,
the government was completely exonerated.’

‘I
bet they thought of charging Brave Kangalala with something! Like causing
public panic!’

‘But
it was the army that caused the panic!’

‘They
could have charged him with making false accusations that the government is
corrupt.’

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

‘You’ll soon be finishing school,’ I
said to Thoko. ‘What are you going to do with yourself? Follow your mother into
the fashion business? Maybe you’ll become a famous fashion model?’

‘Famous is not good enough for me,’
said Thoko, ‘I want to be distinguished. I shall study law and pass with
distinction. Then I’ll become a distinguished lawyer and earn lots of money by
saving rich crooks from going to jail!’

‘And also saving your poor grandfather
from his rich creditors,’ I suggested.

‘Here in Kalakiland,’ said Thoko,
‘have we ever had a distinguished female lawyer?’

‘Only one,’ I said, ‘and that was a
long time ago, about a hundred years ago. Her name was Lilomba Chibebebe, and
she became a very distinguished Chief Justice.’

‘She got right to the top?’

‘Oh yes. She was very ambitious!’

‘A hundred years ago! She must have
been very clever to get into school in those days!’

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ I
laughed. ‘The first missionary schools couldn’t attract pupils in those early
days, and had to take the children of outcasts, lepers, mad people and that
sort of thing.

‘And
was Lilomba the daughter of outcasts?’

‘Good
gracious no, Lilomba was the daughter of a chief, and should have been educated
as a princess to understand and practice the traditional culture.’

‘So why wasn’t she given a proper
education?’

‘She was rather a fat and clumsy child,
and couldn’t master the art of traditional dancing. She lacked the wit and
elegance of a princess, so she was sent away in disgrace to one of the
missionary schools.’

‘Where she distinguished herself?’

‘No, not at all, she was very slow and
ponderous. But after repeating five times, she did finally manage to pass to go
to the new university.’

‘Where she distinguished herself?’

‘No, all that came later. But she
scratched a degree in law and became a lawyer.’

‘Where she distinguished herself?’

‘No, all that came later. Her rather
slow and ponderous brain wasn’t up to the adversarial cut and thrust of a
courtroom argument, so she never won a case.

‘So what did she do?’

‘The only thing left, she stood as a
member of parliament.’

‘And did she win?’

‘Of course. She was the daughter of a
chief, so all her tribesmen voted for her.’

‘And did she distinguish herself as a
parliamentarian?’

‘She didn’t need to. As the daughter
of a chief she was immediately appointed as a Minister of State.’

‘So was she able to distinguish
herself as an active and decisive minister?’

‘Er, not exactly,’ I replied. ‘Her
great moment in life was yet to come. She was a bit slow and cautious for
making quick bold decisions. But she was the daughter of a chief, so something
had to be done with her. So she was made Ambassador to Angleterre.’

‘Where she really excelled?’ suggested
Thoko.

‘She made a bit of a name for
herself,’ I chuckled. ‘She tried to steal the husband of the American
Ambassador, and a bit of a scandal had to be hushed up, so she was quietly sent
home. She had to be given another job quickly to avoid the impression that she
was in disgrace. Then it was remembered that she had a law degree. So she was
made a judge!’

‘Where at last she distinguished
herself!’

‘Not immediately,’ I admitted. ‘There
were some funny judgments. When a man was accused of stealing an elephant she
declared that the elephant was too big and must have been the aggressor. So she
jailed the elephant for stealing the man. When two women both claimed the same
husband, she settled the matter by taking the husband for herself.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Thoko sadly. ‘So she
was in trouble again.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘The Supreme Court
had become very agitated and overloaded because all of Lilomba’s judgments went
there on appeal, and all of her judgments had to be overturned. The whole thing
was becoming a public scandal. But in those days it was almost impossible to
fire a judge.’

‘So she had to be promoted to the
Supreme Court.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘They thought it
would be a safer place for her.’

‘And was it?’

‘Not entirely,’ I replied sadly.
‘Everything was alright for the first twenty years, and everybody forgot about the
previously notorious Lilomba. But as time
went on, the older Supreme Court judges retired, until finally she became the
most senior, and was appointed Chief Justice!’

‘Indeed she was,’ I said. ‘She
invented an entirely new form of jurisprudence. One day, sitting in her office,
she asked herself Why should I wait for
parliament to make laws when I can do it myself? And the next day she asked
herself Why should I have all these
courts hearing both sides of a story when the law is clear? I shall make the
judgments myself! After all, I am the Chief Justice!’

‘She took over the whole show?’

‘Exactly. Anytime she saw anything that
she didn’t like, she just wrote out a judgment and sentence, and sent it by
office messenger to the person who had offended her. And if one of her friends
was annoyed by somebody, they would just whisper in her ear, and she would immediately
send her messenger to issue another judgment and sentence. It was justice made
simple. And it was an entirely new system.’

‘So she really distinguished herself!’

‘She certainly did. She destroyed the
rule of law, she destroyed the constitution and she destroyed democracy. She
really distinguished herself!'

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

‘Fantastic!’ I said. ‘Old Robber
Mukote has just been re-elected president with sixty-one percent of the vote! A
million voters found their names weren’t on the register, but a million who
were on the register were already dead! And the African Union says it was a
fair result! Ha!’

‘Poor Dad,’ laughed Kupela. ‘You’ll
never understand it.’

‘Of course I can understand it!’ I spluttered.
‘The one thing I can never do is approve it!’

‘Look,’ I said, ‘this old man Mukote
is about a hundred and ninety years old. He has been president for a hundred
and forty years. How can the doddery old fool be governing the country at that
age!’

‘Dad, you’re not in
England now. You should know that here in Africa we respect old age. Even you, people
respect you, even though you talk rubbish half the time.’

‘People may make the mistake of respecting
seventy,’ I said, ‘but a hundred and ninety is a much more serious mistake. At
that age he should be dead!’

‘He is dead,’ declared Kupela. ‘Since
you imagine yourself to be a political commentator, I should have thought you would
have known that!’

‘What! Dead? What nonsense are you
talking?’

‘I also wonder what nonsense you’re talking,’
laughed Kupela. ‘You say that you understand but don’t approve. But now it
seems you don’t understand either. Of course Mukote has been dead for the past
hundred years. I thought everybody knew that!’

‘What!’ I hooted. ‘Then that only
makes it worse! How can they have a dead man governing the country?’

‘Here in Africa,’ she replied. ‘People
respect their ancestors. In times of trouble they always ask them for advice.’

‘But making a dead man president is
taking things too far!’

‘As a general rule,’ said Koops, ‘the
dead are much less dangerous. A dead man has never been convicted of anything in
any court!’

‘Not true,’ I cackled. ‘Last month a
Russian court sentenced a dead man to thirty years in jail for corruption.’

‘So now you’re agreeing with me that dead
people can be quite active!’

‘I didn’t say that!’ I snapped. ‘I
just said we shouldn’t have one as president. Where, outside Africa, could such
a thing happen?’

‘North Korea,’ Kupela responded
immediately. ‘After his death in 1994, Kim Il Sung was immediately declared
Eternal President. And of course he is still president because eternal goes on
forever.’

‘What nonsense you talk!’ I scoffed, ‘Kim
Jong Un is the President of North Korea.’

‘No he’s not,’ said Kupela. ‘He’s the
Supreme Commander. But Kim Il Sung is the Father of the Nation and the Eternal President.’

‘Let’s get back to Zumbumwe,’ I
snapped.

‘Good idea,’ laughed Kupela. ‘Because
His Excellency the Great Chikolwe President Robber Mukote is the Father of the
Nation in Zumbumwe, so he will always be the Eternal President of the Zumbums.’

‘What nonsense,’ I laughed. ‘He’s
president because he rigged the election. How do you explain the names of a
million dead people on the voters register?’

‘You really have a problem
understanding this, don’t you? Our ancestors are our advisors, and we have to
seek their opinion at election time. Here in Africa we have equal rights for
the dead, unlike the West where they are forgotten like yesterday’s garbage. Here
in Africa we know that if we ignore our ancestors then we shall certainly bring
down all sorts of unnatural calamities upon ourselves, as has happened in the
West.’

‘So Mukote got his majority from the
ancestors?’

‘Naturally the ancestors tend to vote
for one of their own.’

‘So how do these ancestors actually
reach the polling station and cast their votes?’

‘Now that’s a better question,’ said
Kupela. ‘I see you’re now trying to understand all this. If you knew more about
ancestors, you’d know that the spirits of our ancestors can return to Earth and
inhabit the bodies of the living, especially in times of crisis, so that they
can give their advice and cast their votes.’

‘So does this explain the million
names that went missing from the register?’

‘Of course it does. Those whose names
went missing were not allowed to vote because they had been selected to be
inhabited by their ancestors who vote using the bodies of the living. These inhabited
people are called the Zumbums, which is why the country is called Zumbumwe. Here in Zombieland they are called the
Zombies.’

‘But how does an ancestral leader stay
active for a hundred years?’

‘There are various ways, even in the
West. Like Count Dracula, who ruled Transylvania for a thousand years by
sucking blood from the throats of his subjects. This is one way that loyal
citizens can keep a dead leader alive.’

‘That certainly sounds familiar,’ I
admitted. ‘Maybe there’s more to this interpretation of politics than I had realized.’

‘Now perhaps you understand why people
say that Cycle Mata will win the election in 2021.’

‘Now I understand,’ I said. ‘They must
have consulted the ancestors! And the ancestors will join the voters! But what
happens when he goes to join his ancestors?’

‘Then he can rule for a thousand
years!’

‘But if the ancestors are always in
charge,’ I wondered, ‘how shall we ever get new ideas into politics?’